My Not-So-Secret Secret

I've been thinking about writing this post for over a year and a half. That's a long time. But every time I began to write, I'd hesitate. I'd delete a sentence or two that seemed too vulnerable or I'd cringe and the thought of family and friends who read this blog judging me. It's taken me a year and a half to write these thoughts down and share them because when I chose to confess what I'm about to confess, I wanted to be sure I did it in a way that was educational, respectful and empowering. So here it goes.

When Campbell was a newborn, I suffered from a pretty debilitating case of Post Partum Depression. That's my secret.

The reason I titled this post "Not-So-Secret" is because in the last two years since I've recovered from the ordeal, I've been pretty vocal to my close family and friends about what I went through. Most everyone I love knows that I suffered greatly. They know I sought a therapist. They know I was on medication (and still am!). They know all of this because sharing what I went through and explaining my behavior and thoughts is one of the ways I was able to heal.

I want to share with you, my bloggy friends, because I hope that if any of you are going through something similar or know someone who is, that you will find the help you need and can look at me as an example that it does get better. And you will want to have more babies eventually :)

So, here's my story.

Anyone who knows me, knows I've always wanted to be a mom. It's my nature to nurture. And I love babies. So when I got pregnant, you can imagine how ecstatic I was. And then the panic set in. Maybe I should have seen that as red flag #1, but I am pretty sure every new preggo panics a little when the reality of a baby sets in. The problem was, for the first trimester I was in serious denial. I didn't want to talk about it with my family, didn't want to think about purchases. Didn't want to discuss names. Nothing. I just didn't want to think about it. Then the excitement crept back in, and at 33 weeks pregnant, I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia and put on bed rest. I was induced at 37 weeks and gave birth to a beautiful boy who weighed 6 lbs 10 oz and had a full head of blonde hair.

My birth was actually really pleasant and peaceful. I pushed for almost three hours but I was not in pain. I was talking to my OB and Rick the whole time. It was really lovely. When they put Campbell on my chest and told me to do skin-to-skin with him and try to nurse him, I pretty much froze. I had no idea what to do. It makes me so sad to say this, but the thoughts in my head were more like, "OMG what do I do with this baby?" instead of "OMG I love him so much!" I did not feel that instant bond. I did not feel a sense of overwhelming love. And that made me feel awful.

Cam was a difficult baby. He didn't latch on and we struggled with our breastfeeding relationship from day one. He was colicky and cried non stop. He was impossible to soothe, and I felt like a failure because I couldn't calm him down. I never knew what he needed because nothing worked. He cried when I fed him. He cried when I rocked him. He cried when I bathed him. He just cried all the time. He  never slept which meant I never slept. I was exhausted and emotional and couldn't understand what I was doing wrong. Because as far as I knew, I was doing something wrong. It was my fault that hew as a tough baby and I couldn't fix it. Red flag #1.

I cried all the time, too. Rick came home from work, and I cried because I was so happy to have someone to help me. When my mom started packing to leave after staying with me for two weeks after the birth, I cried. She didn't leave, needless to say. She stayed for three more weeks. I cried uncontrollably. Now granted, I am a crier in general, so it wasn't that out of the ordinary to be crying so much, and everyone told me it was normal hormonal changes. Red flag #2.

Then I started having panic attacks. They usually came on at night time. Right as bedtime would roll around, my heart would start to race, I'd start to doubt myself about what time we should be putting Cam to bed, how long to feed him, bath before or after feed, swaddle or no swaddle, etc. I would start crying and tell Rick I couldn't handle another night of being awake every hour. Often, he would hold me tight and let me cry and then I would go back at the soothing process. I think the panic was mostly because I never knew what the night held -- would I be soothing a crying baby all night alone or would he sleep for a couple hours? I've only had two panic attacks in my life that I can remember, and they both involved the death of a loved one. So panic attacks were red flag #3.

Which leads me to sleep. One of the biggest problems I had was not being able to sleep. I could not sleep even when Cam was sleeping. Even if my mom was holding Cam or Rick was going to do night duty, I could not sleep. I have never dealt with insomnia before, so this was new for me. It's also another major red flag for PPD.

Red flag #5: I lost all my baby weight and more within two weeks of giving birth. I've always had a difficult relationship with food, but normally, I am an emotional eater. Bad day? Get a pint of ice cream. This time, I couldn't eat. My mom would have to force me to eat protein bars because I would forget to eat. I had no appetite. So unlike me, but I was happy to be at my lowest weight in years!

Up until my six week postpartum OB appointment, I thought the feelings, fears and behaviors I had exhibited up to this point were pretty normal. I knew I didn't feel like myself, but everyone told me I was just being hormonal. When my doctor (whom I adore) walked into the exam room, I burst into tears. Literally she didn't even say hi, and I just started crying. Her reaction was, "Okay, let's talk." And that we did. She immediately did some screening tests and diagnosed me with PPD as soon as I described my symptoms. She also knows my family and personal history of anxiety and depression, so it was pretty much a no brainer for her to come to the conclusion that I needed some intervention.

At that point, I started seeing a therapist who I credit for bringing me out of my very dark place. At first I went to therapy twice a week. I often would bring Campbell with me because I didn't have childcare options. My therapist taught me strategies to come down off the ledge when I would start panicking. She encouraged Rick to get involved in my recovery and I was very open with him after every session and told him how he could help me. He was on constant "watch" to see if I was slipping back into old ways. He worked just as hard as I did to help me get better, and I give him a lot of credit for sticking with me through this. I can totally see how a colicky baby + a depressed/anxious wife would lead to some serious marriage problems. I am so lucky I have Super Husband.

Needless to say, after about two months of therapy and medication (and Campbell coming out of his colicky state)... I felt like a new person. I came out of isolation, took Cam to music classes, met friends for play groups and started socializing with old friends again. And the bond and relationship I now have with my son is stronger and better because I'm healthy. Luckily, he doesn't remember those early months. And fortunately, he hasn't been affected by them because I sought help.

When I got pregnant with Teddie, I was petrified with going through the same emotional ordeal. I made different choices during this pregnancy and postpartum experience and it is like night and day. I have LOVED this newborn phase. Granted, she wasn't colicky, but she was still a baby and it was still hard. She cried and needed me and I was running on zero sleep while also tending to a toddler. It was hard. But, I slept when she did. I ate and socialized and kept any worries/fears in check.

And how do I know I'm truly recovered?? I am already thinking about when I can realistically have Baby #3. Call me crazy, but this is my calling. It's not a perfect story, but it's my story and I am so glad I've lived it.